Paradigm Shift
by ChoCedric
Summary: There comes a time in a person's life when they know they have to grow up. For some, it happens gradually. For others, it is sudden, sharp, and vicious. Harry Potter's experience was the latter. In the space of a few hours, his black-and-white worldview was forever shattered, and he knew he could never go back. All he could do now was move forward.
1. Prologue: The Beauty of a Naive Mind

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Hello, everyone. I have not written a chaptered story in a very, very long time. To be honest, I've had this very concrete idea for over a year, and it is now that I feel completely ready to share it with the HP fanfic world. I've tried my hand at writing chaptered stories in the past, and the only one that really worked out for me for a while was Love is Immortal, but that ended up going on hiatus because I totally lost track of it, and wasn't at all sure where to take it next. I am keeping it up, however, because maybe someday my imagination will reconnect with it.

This one, however, I have been sure to make an outline for. I already know exactly where I want to take the story. I honestly feel better about this one than I have about any of them before.

All I'll say for now is that this is going to be an emotional roller coaster. I hope the prologue speaks for itself.

Please, please let me know what you think. I adore reviews!

Paradigm Shift

By: ChoCedric

Prologue: The True Beauty of a Naïve Mind

When sixteen-year-old Harry Potter went to bed On September 12, 1996, he had no idea that in a matter of hours, his entire universe would ground to a jarring halt.

And when the earth started turning again, everything would look different; his black-and-white view of the world had been shattered.

For many days afterwards, a phrase from his recently-deceased godfather pounded through his overactive brain: The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. He thought he'd understood what that meant, but he had never been so wrong.

Harry was also ashamed to admit that in the time that followed this realization, a selfish part of him wished for nothing more than to go back to his naïve state. Things had been so much simpler before.

Because there's something truly precious about being naïve once you lose it. Once you lose it, you can never, ever, ever get it back.

As Harry Potter had climbed into his bed on September 12, 1996, there had been a force, an extremely strong feeling, pounding through his veins. His breaths came sharp and quick with it, his heart pounded with it, his hands shook from the intensity of it.

Hatred.

Harry Potter hated Severus Snape; hated him, loathed him, despised him. He wanted him destroyed. He wanted all the suffering he had inflicted on others to come back to him tenfold. He should be the one to have to experience all the pain and agony his decisions had wrought.

It had only been an hour ago that Harry had been face to face with the man. They had been in Dumbledore's office, along with Dumbledore himself. Harry's whole body had been shaking with rage and grief, and he had been screaming and yelling himself hoarse. Everyone who had seen him lose his temper the year before had seen nothing; this was a scene far worse than what they had witnessed.

"I hate you," he had roared, his eyes spitting emerald fire. "You deserve nothing but suffering. I hope the whole world learns what a truly disgusting person you are."

Little did Harry know that it would be those words, those horrible, brutal, hateful words, that would be the beginning of it all. Through many, many days to come, he would want nothing more than to take those words back. Would he ever, ever be able to forgive himself?

There comes a time in a person's life when they know they have to grow up, when their universe shifts and changes to become a new reality. For some people, it happens gradually, but for some, it is sudden, sharp, and vicious. Harry Potter's moment of reckoning was the latter.

And he knew, from that moment on, that he had been changed. He had been thrown into a whole new universe. The sun still rose in the morning and set at night, the stars still twinkled, and the earth still spun on its axis. But Harry Potter's mind was a different place.

And he knew he couldn't go back, back to a time when things were easier than what they were now. Now, all he could do was move forward.

Into the future.


	2. Haunted

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Thank you soo much to those who reviewed, and to those who added me to their story alerts! I really, really appreciate it.

For anyone who I want to personally respond to, I will answer your reviews individually by PM. I much prefer to do it that way rather than put them on the page with the actual story. Plus, I like talking to each person in that fashion. But I will always say thank you to all of you who give me your feedback.

Part I. The Time Before

Chapter 1: Haunted

July 24, 1996

"For Merlin's sake, you two, don't just stand there staring! Those letters aren't going to open themselves, you know!" cried the exasperated voice of Hermione Granger as she stared at her two best friends.

Ron Weasley rolled his eyes and gave the bushy-haired girl a grin, even though his nervousness was plain to see. If he hadn't done well, he would definitely be getting a lecture from his mother, who could be very formidable when angry. He was just glad that at this moment, she was out of the room. Harry, as well, looked anxious: after all, these letters would tell him what careers he could opt for, which would decide the rest of his life.

In a matter of seconds, all three had their letters open, and were looking at the results contained within.

As Harry's eyes wandered down the page, he was surprised to discover he had done much better than he had thought. The only subjects he had outright failed were History of Magic and Divination, which he had expected, all things considered. If he was perfectly honest with himself, he couldn't have cared less about Divination, and History of Magic ... well ... that didn't bear thinking about. His mind was all too familiar with wandering down that path to inevitably end at what had happened during that exam.

He forcibly shook himself out of those thoughts and continued to ponder his results. He had received an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and an Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions.

Potions.

And that's where his mind stopped.

Several months ago, he had been told that in order to become an Auror, he would have to continue taking Potions to N.E.W.T. level. But the Potions Master, Severus Snape, only took students into his sixth-year class who had received an O.

Well, thought Harry as he scowled darkly down at his test results, that's it then. I won't be able to be an Auror after all. That's what I wanted to do with my life, but now I can't.

But then, he thought cynically, how long is my life going to be anyway? How am I going to survive my next run-in with Voldemort?

Because he knew it would happen. There was no "I'll probably meet him again someday" about it. It wasn't pessimism that was talking; it was realism. With Voldemort as obsessed with the prophecy as he was, he knew that the evil maniac would not stop until one of them was dead. And with the way things were going right now, it would most likely be Harry that would fall. After all, how in Merlin's name could he possibly defeat the foulest, most vile wizard in a century?

"Oh, no!" Hermione suddenly moaned, pulling Harry out of his depressing thoughts. "I only got an E in Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

"And I'm guessing you got Outstanding on everything else?" asked Ron, smirking at her.

Hermione only scowled in response and thrust her exam results at him. He looked quickly down the page, then brought his eyes back up to her. "Of course you did," he said, the smirk remaining on his face. "What in the world are you complaining about?"

"Obviously, she's upset because she's like every other human being on the planet," grinned Fred as he punched Hermione's shoulder playfully.

"Yeah, she's not perfect after all. What a shock," snickered George, who copied Fred's move on Hermione's other shoulder. The twins had the premises for their joke shop now, and their grand opening would be in several days, which would also be when they were moving to the flat above it.

"Be quiet, you two, it's not funny!" snapped Hermione, glaring.

"Oh, we beg to differ," chortled Fred. Both twins then proceeded to bow their heads, moaning dramatically about how they were so, so deeply ashamed, and that the paragon of perfection shouldn't have that title after all.

Harry could see that his friend was getting truly upset now,, even though the twins' intentions were to cheer her up. So he said, "Come on, Hermione, you're really selling yourself short. I only got Outstandings in two subjects and failed two others, and the rest were Exceeds Expectations. You can't expect yourself to be perfect!"

"Yeah, really, Hermione," said Ron, who was still grinning. "You know you're the smartest witch I know, I shouldn't have to tell you that! You did better than the two of us combined! Don't beat yourself up about one E! You did wonderfully, and you know it!"

At this, a smile finally came to Hermione's face. "Thank you," she said softly and sincerely.

"Oh, ickle Ronniekins knows exactly what to say to make the girl feel better," chuckled Fred.

"Yeah, he didn't learn that from us, did he?" laughed George.

"Shut up, you two!" Ron said sharply, his ears going the color of his hair. "Don't you two know when to quit?"

"Nope," both twins said in unison, and then burst into laughter. The sound filled the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, making the cold, dreary room feel, for a moment, much more cheerful.

Xxx

Later that night, though, as Harry lay in his bed, his mind, as it was wont to do these days, returned to a dark and gloomy state. Now that he was alone and away from the distractions of his friends, he couldn't push the haunting thoughts away. Of course, Ron was snoring in the bed next to him, but since he was asleep, it couldn't count as a distraction.

Harry had been back at the home of his deceased godfather, Sirius Black, for three days now. His stay with the Dursleys this summer had been uneventful when it came to the treatment of his aunt and uncle; it was just the same old, same old, day after day. Aunt Petunia said nothing, just gave him lists of chores to do, and Uncle Vernon glowered at him, called him "boy," and called the wizarding world "the world of freaks". The only difference Was Dudley, who, instead of bullying him and threatening to beat him up, just stayed away. Harry had wondered whether the Dementor attack the year before had something to do with his new attitude, but did not reflect on the thought for too long. Dudley staying away from him was far preferable to being mocked and taunted by him, whatever the reason.

When Remus, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley had come to pick him up and take him to Grimmauld Place, he really, really hadn't wanted to go. The pain of losing his godfather was still too raw, along with the feelings of responsibility and profound guilt that went along with it. After all, if he hadn't fallen into the trap Voldemort had set for him ...

No! he told his mind furiously. Don't go there again! No amount of regrets or apologies can bring Sirius back. You acted rashly, and now you have to live with the consequences.

Both Remus and Hermione had told him that Sirius wouldn't have wanted him to blame himself, and he knew, deep down, that they were right. But it was much, much easier said than done.

Dealing with Sirius's death on its own was bad enough, but this was far from everything that he was going through at the moment. On the surface, he acted like everything was fine, but that was so, so incredibly untrue.

No, Harry Potter wasn't fine.

What he was, was haunted.

Ever since the Ministry had finally, at long, long last, accepted that Lord Voldemort was indeed back, the dark wizard had begun where he had left off last time, and he had begun with a vengeance. Almost every single night, Harry had been forced to watch as he and his Death Eaters murdered countless families. The screams, the cries, the weeping, the pleading, the begging ... Harry felt as though he were slowly going insane.

And no, Harry wasn't just a passive observer who was forced to watch, helpless and hopeless, able to do absolutely nothing to save those who were suffering; that would have been bad enough. No, it was far, far worse than that. Harry was also forced to speak Voldemort's words, forced to feel Voldemort's emotions as he and his servants performed the spells, the pleasure simply oozing off him. The screams and pleads were what made Voldemort feel alive.

And the opposite was happening to Harry. Every day, he hated the nighttime just a little bit more; he was slowly dying inside, crumbling away bit by bit by bit. And he knew with a bone-deep certainty that he must not ever tell anyone about this. Because he was tainted now, wasn't he? If anyone ever found out that he watched this and could do nothing ... just the thought alone made him feel as though he were suffocating, like it was a struggle to just pull in another breath.

He returned to his reflections from this morning about how long his life expectancy really was, and about how he honestly didn't feel as though he could ever defeat Voldemort. Because that was the worst thing about all this, wasn't it? It was his, HIS, responsibility to end all this pain and suffering, and it was a task he didn't think he had even the slightest chance of fulfilling successfully.

And it was these thoughts that tore his mind apart as Harry felt himself succumbing to sleep. He really, really didn't want to sleep ... he'd do anything not to sleep ...

But it was too late for that as he started drifting away. His last coherent thought was the fact that he was glad he'd remembered to put a Silencing Charm on the room before he fell asleep; the other residents of Grimmauld Place certainly wouldn't want to wake up to his horrified screams. He wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school, but with adults in the house as well as the place being unplottable and under a Fedelius, how would the Ministry know anyway?

Little did Harry know that his dream tonight would leave him with more questions,. Intense, burning, gnawing questions. In the weeks to follow, he would think he was on his way to unlocking the answers, too. But what he wouldn't realize for a while was that the answers he found were not answers at all; they were only assumptions, not the facts.

In the simplest of terms, Harry Potter would be wrong.

Dead wrong.


End file.
